


Sacrifice

by Lynette_TheMadScientist



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor, Immortal 76, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Pumpkin Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29554914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynette_TheMadScientist/pseuds/Lynette_TheMadScientist
Summary: Inspired by this bit of fanart: https://dapling.tumblr.com/post/165979248850/we-ran-into-the-pumpkin-field-to-hide-but-thereJack Morrison lays dead on the ground and Gabriel Reyes would do anything to get him back. A witch offers a solution, for a price.Can be interpreted as romance or bromance.Originally written in 2017 I think. Originally posted Jan 31st 2019.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Sacrifice

We were the very definition of war dogs. If there was a war we were in it. Whenever there wasn’t one we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. And we usually got into trouble as a result.

For the past 20 years we fought together; practically stitched at the hip. I’m using the past tense because right now my brother-in-arms lies dead. The fall was too great. There was no way he would’ve survived. I held his scuffed and battered body. No breath. No heartbeat. He was already going cold. But I can’t let go. The battle had moved on but I remain frozen in the place of Jack’s death. We always knew this is how it would end. Our violent lives would eventually catch up with one of us. I thought I was prepared for it. I was sorely mistaken.

I shook his limp form and begged him to wake up. I screamed at the raining sky. No words, just desperate unintelligible sounds. I cried out to God, begging for Jack’s life at any cost.

“How sad. A fallen comrade.”

I looked at the source of the voice in front of me. God did not answer, a woman did. A blonde woman clothed in black, wearing a pointed hat, and carrying a switch broom. I knew who she was. The Witch of the Wilds. Often spoken about in whispers, but never seen.

“What do you want?” I seethed. Powerful witch or not, I am in no mood for a conversation right now.

“I want to help you,” she grinned.

“What could you possibly do to help me?”

“I can bring your friend back, even make him immortal. But it won’t be cheap.”

“I’ll pay any price.”

“I’m glad to hear it! Now, I just need it in writing.”

A sheet of parchment materialized in her raised hand. I looked down at Jack’s now cold and stiffening body. “Where do I sign?”

“A drop of your blood at the bottom of the contract will do.”

With one hand still holding Jack’s body, clenching around his shoulder, I reach my free hand to a wound in my arm. I dip my first two fingers in my blood and wipe them against the parchment.

“Excellent!”

The parchment vanishes. I look down at Jack, still dead.

“Stand up, Gabriel, you must let him go.”

I lay his body gently on the soaked earth.

“First, my payment.” She extended her hand towards my chest, touching the area over my heart with her index finger and thumb. As she touched them together I felt a tug. As she retracted her hand the tugging became painful. I can hear my agonized screams echoing against the cliffside as I watch her pull a white almost translucent string from my chest. The more string that left my body the more hollow I felt. I thought for sure that I was dying, that I had traded my life for Jack’s. I glanced at his lifeless body. No regrets.

As the last of the string left my body, my fists unclenched and I fell to my knees. The tugging pain was gone but the emptiness was worse than ever.

What did you take? I can’t hear my voice.

“Your will.” She twirled the string in her fingers and it vanished.

I stood. I didn’t intend to. I tried to move but nothing happened.

What is happening? Again there was no sound, no vibration in my throat, no movement of my lips. Nothing. Fear crept into my heart and mixed with the despair and sorrow already there. Yet I still felt so empty.

“Your every action including your voice is now under my control, Gabriel. You are my servant.”

So this was the price. At least, that’s what I thought before she produced a knife from her cloak and thrust it into my heart.

“Except your eyes of course. They are the windows to the soul after all.”

My body refused to react. I collapsed to the ground, staring helplessly at the sky.

…

I woke up staring at an angled ceiling.

“Hello, Gabriel.”

{ Hello, mistress } A dark and ethereal voice emenated from my throat.

“Excellent. Now let’s see how successful my experiments were.”

Again my body moved without my permission. The struggling of my mind remained unreflected in the actions of my body. I got up from the table and faced the witch.

Where’s Jack? What about our deal? I tried to ask.

“He’s alive. He’s out looking for you actually. How touching. But don’t fret. After we’re finished here I’ll prove to you that I’ve kept my end of the deal.”

I- no, my body approached a mirror. My wounds were gone and my face was without expression.

I felt the pain before I saw the transformation. My feet felt like the flesh and bone were being ripped apart, crushed, and sieved all at once. I watched the reflection of my feet dissolve into black smoke. The agony rose up my legs. Where the pain traveled the smoke followed until only smoke remained. I don’t know how I was able to see it towards the end as my eyes were gone too.

“Excellent!” The witch lightly clapped her hands.

Retaking my solid form was at least as agonizing as losing it. I kept reminding myself I’m doing this for Jack; at least he’s alive.

“Now it just won’t do for you to be a witch’s servant and not look the part.”

With eyes closed the witch twirled her arms in the air, fingers grabbing at nothing. My ordinary combat clothing was being slowly modified to look more ornate. A long cloak with an absurdly large collar was added. It was obviously designed to make me look menacing rather than stealthy. Whatever the witch had in mind to use me for it wasn’t going to be subtle.

“And I hope you don’t mind me adjusting your weapons a bit.”

She gestured to the table where my duel shotguns laid. There were now claw-like protrusions at the ends of the barrels, some sort of cracked glowing orange stone above the triggers, and two lit candles over the chambers.

Nope, this witch clearly intended to stomp subtlety so far into the ground even the worms wouldn’t find it.

“And I suppose you ought to wear a mask. After all, we can’t let our victims see what’s really behind those eyes now can we?”

I think she meant to horrify me with that statement, but I’m not surprised. What else could she have wanted me for but murder?

She clasped her hands and as she brought them apart a large pumpkin grew between them. With one finger she traced out a glowing face. She then placed the Jack O Lantern over my head.

Okay this was getting ridiculous.

As if an enormously collared cloak and candles on guns weren’t enough, I am now forced to murder people whilst wearing a pumpkin.

Jack had better be grateful for this.


End file.
